A year ago, twenty eight year old Lisa Armstrong Reed 'princess of Oakenville', lost her husband, Keith. And now, she just got invited to her aunt's wedding at Miami. Determined to forget her dead husband for good, Lisa takes a chance at a holiday and hops into the next available flight to the Florida city, in anticipation for a well-deserved vacation. What she doesn't expect is to find herself in the same room with Keith's handsome, half naked brother for whom she harbours a yearlong crush! Damien Reed 'kinda kissed' his brother's wife last year, and she shut him out almost immediately. Now with his brother dead, and Lisa miraculously turns up as a bridesmaid at his friend's wedding, he's more than prepared to let her know how he feels about her. When a simple wedding getaway turns to a war zone, with stalkers and greeting cards claiming to be from Keith, wyill the two finally find a happily ever after together or is a second chance at romance too hot to handle? [Cover design by Mikael]
View MoreLisa's POV
I stood outside the morgue on that May evening, unable to believe my senses. It was like every normal day, nothing changed. The sun was already ducking behind fluffy clouds that reminded me of the dough I abandoned back home, on the kitchen island next to Emilie's elbow. The sky was stained with the reds and pinks of an approaching dusk. The spring breeze ruffled my chestnut shoulder length hair, and like the previous day, I could smell rain in the air. Except that Keith, my husband, who was supposed to be at home, is in there. Lying cold, dead, in a freezer. "Have you heard anything from Damien all these while?" Emilie had asked two hours ago, when we both were in my kitchen, and I was lining up my ingredients for my chocolate chip cookies. Flour, sugar, butter, eggs. Right then, baking had become more than just one of my hobbies. Since my baby bump got bigger, and Emilie, Keith even, had encouraged me to take a break from managing my restaurant, Duke's Table, baking had become a kind of avoidance tactic. A way to deflect the troubles of my marriage with Keith. A vehicle of stress release. A break from real life. An art of delicious distraction that wasn't quite potent anymore as soon as Emilie had mentioned Damien's name. I had wished my heart did not skip a dozen beats at the mention of my husband's brother. I had wished I did not remember the melted caramel colored eyes and sharp cheekbones on his tawny face, and his lips on mine. I would have paid good money to say I did not want him to kiss me, that I hadn't ever wanted him to, but the embarrassing truth was that I did want it. I had liked the kiss. I had liked him too. "Hello? Earth to Elisabeth?" Emilie had waved her small hand in my face. I hadn't realized I was spacing out. "I didn't know you missed him so much." I'd ignored the shame clawing up my throat and plopped the stick of butter in a bowl, dumping a cup of sugar on top of it. "Shut up. You sound like my mother. She's the only one that calls me Elisabeth. And who says I miss Damien? What did you think I would hear from him, and why?" Emilie had lowered her jaw into the vee of her hands with her elbows propped up at the countertop, grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat. "Because right now, your ears are redder than apples." "Are they? I highly doubt that." I'd dipped my head and focused on the bowl of butter and sugar. Initially I'd intended to use the mixer, but instead I had taken a fork and attacked the butter, mashing it together with the sugar with harsh, almost violent, strokes. I did miss him. So much. We were buddies after all. But I did not want to hear from him. Not when his brother had almost walked in on us kissing, and had still suspected we were having an affair. Not when I still laid in bed some nights with that kiss playing over and over in my head, right beside my husband. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lisa." The words had rushed out of Emilie's mouth faster than a gazelle hellbent on escaping death that waited between a leopard's jaws as she'd waved both hands frantically in front of her. "The baby, remember? We need you both whole, and healthy. Stress-free. I believe that's what that mixer over there exists for." She had gestured to the mixer encased in a glass walled cupboard. The mixer it had somehow skipped my mind to take out of there. Emilie had dashed to the cupboard to get it out for me. I'd exhaled, thrown my hands up in surrender, and set the bowl of butter and sugar onto the stand mixer. "Yes, you're welcome." Emilie'd returned to her former position at the kitchen island, right in front of me. "He's just as hot as Keith so I won't blame you." She had slipped a chunk of her beachy blonde locks behind her right ear. "But that's not all I've got to say. I heard from Jenna Gonzalez he's dating Ally Rose now. Remember the girl with pink streaks in her hair and the sudden glow up last summer?" Yeah, I did remember. I'd also remembered I went to school with the then lanky, awkward teenager, and she accused me of stealing her prom date, proceeding to embarrass me afterwards. But that strangely did not bother me as much as the news about Damien in a relationship with her did. I'd taken deep, measured breaths to regulate the way my heart twisted and thrummed in my ribcage, and refused to acknowledge the envy that had to do with all that. "Wow. That's… romantic." "Jenna says they met somewhere in Tennessee. At a bar or something." "Yeah right." Jenna does know everything afterall. She's called the collector of secrets for a reason. And thanks to her, Emilie's feeding me juicy gossip. That had been basically how I'd spent long, lonely days, pregnant and trapped in a ginormous house. Except that particular gossip had been sour to my ears. I'd grabbed a drinking glass nearby and filled it with water, taking small sips as I fixated on the mixer doing it's job. Another embarrassing truth: it didn't matter if Ally Rose had been the woman he's with or not. What had mattered, and slightly got me pissed had been that I wasn't that woman. "You really do like this guy," Emilie'd observed. "Not that it matters." I'd set down the glass of water on the white granite island to bring down the mixing bowl and throw the rest of the ingredients into it. "I'm married, Em. To his brother. We already have… well, we're on our way to having a baby together." I'd swiped a hand down my body to encompass my bulging tummy poking at the floor length chiffon gown I had on. "That kiss was…" Superb. Intoxicating, despite the short time it lasted. I'd forced myself to bite it out, in spite of myself. "... a mistake. And Keith sure as hell will be mad if he finds out. Trust me, Em, you don't want to see Keith mad." The solemn look on her face had let me know she understood. "I'll go preheat the oven for you." She'd moved adjacent to the counter, where the oven was located. Then she'd stopped in her tracks, and spun around to face me. "I'm really sorry I brought that up…" "You did nothing wrong, Em…" "It must be hard having a thing for a man while married to his brother. Honestly, I don't know what I would have done if I was married to Nolan's brother while I'm still crazy in love with him…" "Emilie!" "Though I must admit it's thrilling. Like something out of a movie. Or Mills and Boon." I'd snorted, "If I saw that in a movie, I would trash it." "Gosh, don't you feel like a rebel sometimes?" "One more word, and I will make sure to waste this dough on you," I'd threatened. "If you actually can," she'd taunted, sticking out her tongue at me. I'd shaken my fist right back in mock menace. "I was thinking, what if, by a sheer stroke of destiny, or luck, you somehow had a chance with Damien? What will you do then?" That had been when, as if in answer, my phone had vibrated on the kitchen island. I'd picked the call to receive the news of Keith's demise. Emilie walked up beside me, concern and sympathy creasing up her features. Her eyes were slowly welling up with tears. "I'm so sorry, girl, I'm so sorry." She enveloped me in a tight hug, as tight as the protrusion on my tummy would let her. "This is so sudden I don't know what else to say." I too was dumbfounded. I merely put an arm around her waist, and watched from over her shoulder as my father-in-law, Demetrius, headed to his car with a sullen expression, and hurriedly also, like did not want anyone to witness him cry. He had also come over to identify Keith's body. Like every parent would be at the death of their children, he was heartbroken. Overhead, the sky darkened at the appearance of gray rain clouds that lent more gloom to the atmosphere. Emilie noticed too, because she pulled away from me with a sob, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with the sleeve of her red woollen sweater. "We should head home, Lisa. It looks like it will rain soon." The fat raindrop that hit my cheek felt like a pebble, and soon, sooner than perhaps Emilie expected, the clouds gave way to a pelting shower. Emilie immediately swung her arm around my shoulders and propelled me to her car parked under a whistling pine, while the rain, already burst free from the clouds, seeped into my clothes. It probably was unfair to all who loved Keith, but I identified with the rain that was no longer trapped within the clouds. I was free.Lisa's POV "I heard there's a really good ice cream shop around here," Leigh is saying from behind the steering wheel of Selena's Mustang, while I'm sitting in the passanger's seat with Willow in my laps, wondering why in the world Leigh chose to drag me along with her. "What a way to combat all this sun, am I right?" I couldn't agree more. Even my hair is beginning to frizz up from the humidity. But the pool should have been much more better. "So why did it have to be me?" I moan out loud. Willow yips in agreement. I should have been lazily lounging around in the pool with others. Or having a nap. Not moving around on a hot day like this in search of an ice cream shop. "Everyone else is… busy?" Leigh turns left, manoeuvring the steering wheel with one hand while slipping strands of her brown hair behind one ear with the other hand. "Consider this a thank you outing for Willow, for letting me borrow one of her storybooks. You're just tagging along." "Who says my dau
Glenn's POV I watch Yvette attack the tub of ice cream it seemed like she forgot it existed. She reminds me of Skylar in many ways. The obvious love for food. The round cheeks. The big eyes. The cuteness. Yvette and Skylar both have these in common. I used to like watching Skylar eat. She made the simple act of filling her mouth with tuna sandwich the sexiest and most fun thing to watch. Wait a minute, what? Why am I thinking of something like this now? Even before we all came together in this holiday villa for Wade and Selena's pre-wedding vacation, I've known Yvette Jones. I've met her multiple times in the gaming software company where Wade works as a director. And in those times, we always end up exchanging banters. Why did she not remind me of Skylar then? Why now? There's a smear of ice cream beside her lips. I should pretend I didn't see it. "You have a bit of ice cream beside your mouth," I'm already saying in spite of myself. "Let me get it for you." I lean
Yvette's POVWhat the hell is wrong with me?! I stomp to the kitchen and collapse into the stool next to the granite island. Jeremy isn't my boyfriend. I'm at fault for having a crush on him in the first place. I'm at fault for mistaking him for a prince charming, for allowing him to sweep me off my feet the night of that luau party. It should not be any business of mine if he decides to date someone else instead. If he decides that all he wants to do is make out with her in front of everyone. But it does hurt. My heart is cracked open, and it hurts like a knife wound to my chest. Hot tears sting the back of my eyes, but I squeeze them back by pinching my nose between my thumb and forefinger and counting to ten on a deep exhalation through my mouth. Don't cry, I tell myself. Don't cry. Jeremy doesn't care if you do. Right now he's only interested in his new lover. I hear approaching footsteps and lurch to my feet, checking my eyes on the reflective screen of my phone
Glenn's POV Damien was once my most favorite person. He used to be my best friend. We met when we were eight years old, during a housewarming party both of our fathers attended, and automatically drifted towards each other in the crowd filled with boring old people, busy with champagne and boring old people's talk. We played hide and seek that day within the new mansion our fathers' mutual friend just built, and accidentally, I pushed down a huge Ming dynasty vase. While everyone else made a huge fuss about the decorative item that they said cost more than a first-class ticket to the Maldives, Damien stood by me, and we bore the punishment together. We were both grounded throughout the holidays. And when I met him again in grade school, I knew instantly we would be great friends. Friends that will always have each other's backs. We both had wealthy fathers, so he was equally familiar with the perks and demerits that came with it. If only I can meet that eight year old me and give him
Yvette's POV I can't stop thinking about yesterday. "Everything all right, Yvette?" Leigh tips herself towards me to peer in my face. We've just had breakfast, and I'm lounging outside beside the pool with Leigh. Her hair is set in multicolored rollers, and with her Versace sunglasses perched at the bridge of her pert nose, and her mouth painted a dark red, Leigh looks every inch a formidable queen, half as formidable as Queen Charlotte looks in the Bridgerton series, her long legs folded carefully under her like a gazelle. She is wearing a crisp white shirt over her blue swimsuit. "Yeah, of course." I look over at the swimming pool. There were gasps and moans coming from here last night, and when I peeked to see who the sources of the noise were, it turned out to be Damien and Lisa. It was so passionate, though I couldn't bear to look any further while imagining it was Jeremy and I. No wonder the mood today during breakfast was significantly better than it was last night. Almos
Ally Rose's POV While in the shower, I scrub my hair in utter frustration. Truthfully, I arrived at my uncle's villa without the knowledge it's being rented out for the summer. Because I have the keys to the front door, and because my benevolent, wealthy uncle, Maurice Singer, granted me access to his luxurious beach house at anytime I desire to crash at the place, I took advantage of my annual leave at my uncle's firm and hopped into the next available flight to Miami right after ending my relationship of three weeks with a really cute doctor, hoping to have the entire house to myself. It was Selena I met first the minute I set foot in the house. She was at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of coffee meditatively and staring out the window at the approaching sunrise when I rolled in my suitcase. After she learned of my identity, the kind lady had no qualms with letting me stay for some time, bless her heart. I believe it's the universe that let me come over to Palm Paradise. If I di
Lisa's POV Fireworks explode in my chest when his soft mouth meets my lips, tentative and gentle at first, though it inspires the opposite reaction in my heart. I can almost feel the beating against my ribcage. It isn't our first kiss, though it's different. It is the first kiss that's ours, and i savor it for long moments. Damien pulls back and catches his breath, as if the kiss took him by surprise, then presses against me again. The second assault is shockingly sensual too. It slams into me, defeats all my senses. It's almost appalling how much I want this. How much I want to feel his hands all over me. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He stands against the wall of the pool, with my body tight against him. His hand slides low, down to my ass, and he squeezes roughly. I gasp into his mouth, and he plunges his tongue deeper into my mouth. Our tongue war and collide, the tips circling one another. "How about this for criminal evidence?" He whisp
Damien's POV "Lisa." She turns sharply, and exhales when she sees it's me. She attempts a small smile that still brightened her face in an instant. I suck in a breath at how beautiful she is. "Damien. Hi." "Hello." I settle down beside her and deep my own feet into the pool. The water is a little bit on the icy cold side, but I think that's just what I want. "What are you doing out here alone?" "I don't know. Stargazing?" I glance up at the starless sky. "Yeah right. The stars are exceptionally pretty today. Look at that big one over there." I grab the base of her ponytail and shake her head from side to side. "You moron," she laughs, smacking my bicep. It's a far cry from the fake laughter I just listened to moments ago. Lisa doesn't laugh as daintily as you might think she does because of her ethereal looks. It's a boisterous kind of laugh that sometimes sounds weird, but it's like music to my ears nonetheless. I can listen to her laugh all day. And stare at her forev
Damien's POV Willow is asleep. I'd just taken her to Lisa's room and barricaded her with several pillows so she won't roll off the bed, a trick I picked up from some random TikTok video. Now I open the door and step out to find Ally Rose in front of me. She smiles at me. The kind of dollish smile that curves her lips in an almost 'U' and pushes up her cheekbones. She looks so different from the last time I saw her. Thinner, and prettier. Fortunately, her wonderful makeover has absolutely no effect on me. "Hey, Damien," Ally Rose simpers. "It's really been long." Back at Tennessee, when I'd been dispatched with my team to provide security at a charity event, she offered this same smile at the bar where I and my colleagues came to cool off. I found it charming then. Now I find it distasteful. I close Lisa's door behind me. "Has it?" "Yes, duh." Ally Rose disregards my attempt at a rebuff with a flick of her delicate wrist. "I've been meaning to talk to you."
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